Momentum
by neoEON
Summary: Sequel to Equilibrium. After the second most momentous battle between the Legendaries Palkia and Dialga, and the near-fatal wounding of Cresselia, the world begins to fear the worst between the Legendaries; war.
1. Chapter 1

**Momentum**

**Chapter One:**

He frowned deeply, the long line of his lips creasing down over the dark skin. He peered at the white hall before him, sparkling in severe contrast to his own dark and crimson hues. It was almost blinding, and his blue eyes had to adjust to the severe and absurd intake of the well-lit room. Gold lined the walls, which seemed as transparent and evanescent. He floated along the long expanse of hall until he reached two heavy doors with their white metallic sheens. Without a sound, he raised his hand and extended his fingers. The doors slid open without protest.

The council was a lively bunch, a colorful crew against the plain white of the cloud walls. Arceus sat high amongst the frills of a white sky. If there was any heaven, Darkrai thought without humor, this was all there was.

Though the room was strikingly empty for such a crime. The legendary bird trio, Moltres, Zapdos, and Articuno were perched along their typical seats. Suicune, however, was missing. So was Cresselia and Dialga. Palkia's usual seat was emptied, as Darkrai assumed the space dragon would be kept in solitude until the council came to session. Mew looked unusually dim, and Giratina was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, _Darkrai_," Arceus said, her voice omnipotent, smooth as rock. She glanced at him from her high, airy seat with a sort of dismay on her face, a near-sadness. "I was so certain that you wouldn't be with us here today. I am glad you came."

_Whatever_, Darkrai wanted to say. His long fingers twisted into fists. _Just get on with it and let me leave. _But he kept his mouth shut and instead nodded. He floated to his seat amongst that of his empty comrades', the only legendary left in his section. He glanced to Cresselia's general seat and felt a small stab.

She wasn't much better. It had taken her four whole weeks to recover from the attack at Alamos, where Palkia had left her nearly dead. She'd been in a coma the entire time, and had woken up nearly thirty days later, with almost no memory of the incident whatsoever. She was still in Durnsmark, being watched over by Nurse Joy. Darkrai was very aware of the nightmares she was beginning to develop, and despite Joy's assurance that it was a normal process, he couldn't help but worry.

It was all Palkia's fault, anyway. And he wanted nothing more than for Palkia to pay.

He wasn't sure how long he waited, but slowly the legendaries came to order and the few who were late came filing through. When it seemed the girth of the meeting's attendance had been reached, Arceus cleared her throat and began.

"My fellow legends, gods and goddesses of sea and earth, fire and ice, death and life; we're gathered here on the most tragic and mournful occasions." Darkrai felt his claws digging into the palms of his weathered hands at Arceus' words. It wasn't a tragic and mournful occasion – it was a righteous and justifying occasion. Palkia would get what he deserved. "As all of you are aware, thirty-five days ago, Palkia and Dialga attacked a small town called Alamos. This is an island town, separated from most of the world by its geography and quaint, peace-loving citizens. It is this town that they have repeatedly offended, this such occasion being their second."

There was a rustle of energy within the room, and although not a word was spoken or a nervous glance made, Darkrai could feel everyone tense. "It was on this eve when they attacked Alamos that Darkrai, the guardian of the aforementioned town gave chase to protect it, yet again, from Palkia and Dialga's wrath. The prior attack left Darkrai in critical condition, and as you all who have served know, Palkia and Dialga were charged to restore the town to its previous state before the matter. However."

Arceus paused and another ripple of excited, terrified energy shot through the cloudy chamber, so that the clouds that made up the ceiling shifted and that a ray of sun sprang through over the illusion of marble floor. The gold plated pillars that held the clouds up shimmered in the light. Darkrai's frown only deepened and creased his face.

"However this is the second time such an offense has happened. We all know that when the forces of nature collide that there is nothing but destruction – we all expected Darkrai to be hurt, and while this is no excuse, Palkia and Dialga's punishment was dealt accordingly. This case is different. Cresselia, who is neither tied to this town nor enlisted to protect it in any way, shape, or form, was struck down. The details, as we have ascertained, are this; Palkia and Dialga were trying to destroy each other, and while Darkrai was preoccupied, Palkia let out a malicious hyper beam at an unguarded, defenseless human. Cresselia, who foresaw the attack, protected the human with her life – and in the process nearly lost it."

The reigning god nodded her head to another set of heavy doors and Giratina escorted Palkia inside. The space dragon looked worse for wear – the shine to his metallic scales was dull and disgusting, like dirt had been allowed to encrust itself upon him. Palkia's eyes drooped and dark circles had formed around them, and the bloodied color was more profound, grungy even. "Palkia," When Arceus called him, the dragon looked up, pleading. "What do you say to our recollection? Does it sound honest to you?"

The dragon hung his head in something like shame. "Yes." He said solemnly, and Darkrai let out a growl.

"Do you believe what you have done is wrong?" Arceus asked, her wise eyes trained on the dragon.

"No." Darkrai snarled loudly, so loud that a tangible shudder shot through his legendary peers. They shot nervous glances at him, and the floor around him was beginning to ripple black where it had once been white.

"She could have let the human die!" Palkia screamed, hysteria close in his projected voice, "There is no law saying we cannot kill them, and they cannot try to kill us! There, it is said nowhere, that what I did was an injustice!"

"You almost _killed_ her!" Darkrai roared, fury steaming his response. He was so angry his skin felt like it was on fire, and an invisible wind whipped at his hair, conjured by the energy of his contempt. "She nearly died! She still doesn't remember who half of you _are_!" His deep voice reverberated within the room an shook the columns, which seemed now much less sturdy than they had been before.

"And the penalty, for such actions?" Arceus said calmly, ignoring Darkrai's outburst. He shook with the vehemence of his anger but did not lash out again. She had directed this statement to the jury of legendaries who sat before Palkia, judging him, judging Darkrai.

There was a roar from the mass of deities, who seemed to scream that Palkia was just as innocent as he was proclaimed guilty. There were shouts of death, pleas of innocence for Palkia's being. Dialga had gotten off easy, considering the nature of the crimes. Palkia had been the trial that everyone was looking forward to, and now Darkrai could see why.

"Death?" Arceus said, her voice lofty, questioning. "Do you really want to sentence him to _death_?" There was another outburst. Raging approval was met by stark disapproval. Arceus listened, seemingly able to pick out the individual requests. She looked thoughtful, then turned to Darkrai. "And Darkrai, what do _you_ think?"

He couldn't stop shaking. He floated a little higher and dug his claws a little deeper into his palms, so that there was evidence of crimson staining his hands from the force of his attempts to restrain himself. "What do _I_ think?" He said, his voice shaking with the strength of his discontent. "_I think_ that none of you – those who scream death, those who scream innocence – none of you have _seen_ Cresselia! You have not _seen_ her twist and turn, caught in her own terrible nightmares! Oh don't you look at me like that – they aren't _my_ fault! They're his!" He pointed one bloodied finger at Palkia. "It's his fault that she screams in her sleep, that she relives what happened over and over – and who can rouse her? None of us! Because it is _she_ who is the redemption from horrible dreams! What of that? When the bearer of peaceful sleep cannot even quell her own horrible visions? What do you say of _that_?"

He took a breath, steadying his quaking form. "And what of the fact that she does not remember half of you? She knows not of the legendary trio of birds, nor of Lugia, or Ho-Oh. She looks at me with an expression of unfathomable confusion whenever I mention any of you! She hardly knows who she is herself!" He let out a rumbling growl and threw his fists down to his sides, his shoulders squared beneath the red armor. "None of you have any idea what punishment Palkia should serve. He requires a fate worse than death, worse than all of it, because he struck down one of _us_. We've fought before, yes, but we've never come this close to killing one another!"

Arceus glanced around the suddenly silent hall, to the legendaries whose mouths hung agape, astonishment scrawled upon their faces. "For the crimes you have commit against ourselves; Dialga and Cresselia and Darkrai alike, I grant you, Palkia, the punishment of death."

There was an uproar from the hall and Palkia's head shot up, his face contorted with self-pity. "Arceus, sweet Arceus!" He screamed, his voice both tragic and loathsome. He let a growl ripple through his fangs and in an intense purple surge, he was gone. He'd teleported, just as quick as that. The court flew into a fury, and there were cries and screams of distressed legends.

"Quiet!" Arceus bellowed, her bell-like voice raging over the mob's roar. "We will _find_ him, wherever he is. And then he shall serve his punishment. Let Palkia be a lesson as to behavior!" She let herself growl, a frustrated and furious sound, and then she too disappeared.

--

Darkrai returned to Durnsmark late at night, and floated through the empty streets, invisible in the shadow of the moon. There had been uproar when he left. Legends took sides based on view. The ones who believed such crimes were not punishable followed one side, and the ones who believed the punishment fit followed another. It was chaos by the time he returned to Durnsmark. His mind filled with the lucid visions of Moltres shooting red-hot flames into the ceiling, where the clouds evaporated and the sun filtered through. Zapdos charged the entire hall with electricity, and the fury of the riot rang in his ears.

He reached the Pokémon Center near midnight and slipped intangibly through the door. He headed straight through the back walls until he reached Cresselia's room, where she was still hooked up to hideous and alien looking medical devices. To his surprise, she was awake.

"I know you're there," She whispered, despite the fact that he had made himself invisible. Without a sound, he reappeared. "What happened?"

"It's not looking good," He said simply, suddenly exhausted. He had no more will in him, and he couldn't stay for very long. His presence was like poison to those who slept, and in the middle of the night, a Pokémon Center was the last place he was wanted. "I can't stay long. I just wanted to know how you were doing."

"Better." Cresselia said. She said this every day, whether she could get out of the bed by herself or not. She could be bleeding from every orifice on her body and she'd still scream to the heavens that she was doing better than before. "I know you can't stay long, but what was the trial verdict?"

He'd briefed her about the trial. He explained to her that all the legends were required to come, despite the massive absence they'd had. He had told her that Palkia, the one who had hurt her, was on trial. He also had to explain how the trials worked. "Arceus wants him to die." He rubbed his arm with his blood crusted fingers. "There's no law against what he did, but there's nothing that says its alright, either. We have very poor government, you know. You used to complain about that a lot." She smiled a little, he did not.

"He disappeared though, Palkia. I'm sure Arceus will have a manhunt sometime soon. As for the jury, well, the legends are divided and when I left, things did not look like they were faring well."

Cresselia shifted a little uncomfortably and watched him, her beak pursed tightly together. "Alice visited me today," She said suddenly. Her attention hadn't been what it used to be, before the accident. "She said that the recovery attempt was looking better in Alamos. They just finished clearing most of the public building debris away. They're still burying bodies though."

Darkrai nodded, and turned toward the door this time. "I see. I have to go, Cresselia. But I will see you tomorrow morning." He said simply, and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Momentum**

**Chapter Two:**

He sat in his office, a large affair with enormous, ceiling-to-floor windows and a grand dark cherry desk. The paper was sprawled haphazardly across the surface, its pages in disarray as he searched for the rest of the article. Across the desk in the left corner was a small stack of similar articles to the one he was reading, which he had been cutting out for the past week.

"Are you still on about that?" He glanced up at the voice that had spoken, which was familiar and feminine. Grace was standing across the massive room, one small hand closing the heavy door behind her. Her white hair swirled around her with the swiftness of the movement, and settled when she had her back to him. "You've been going on about that stupid island for the past two weeks. What do you see in it, Adrian?"She turned and sat down on one of the large, twin sofas that sat in front of his desk. She stretched and glanced over to the wall of mirrors, which covered the entire interior wall of the office, where windows weren't possible.

He glanced up and looked at himself. His thin face looked tired, his blonde hair was just slightly disheveled. If the press saw him like this, they might not notice the difference – no one seemed to notice how meticulous Adrian Roth was. Except Grace, of course. He reached up and adjusted the ugly purple tie in the mirror before he looked back at Grace.

She looked much better than he did at this point. Her white hair was combed down past her shoulders, and her bangs were pulled back with dark bobby pins. She wasn't looking at him directly, but rather watching him through the mirror. "You know just as well as I do why keeping track of Alamos' progress is important." He said simply in his quiet, demure voice. Girls seemed to fall all over that tone, but Grace, he had learned long ago, was impervious. Grace crossed her arms and frowned in a defeated sort of way.

"Alright, Mr. Roth. I'll play along." She sighed and examined her nails, taking her eyes off of him in the mirror. He went down to skimming the latest article.

"It's been about three weeks, since it happened for the second time," He said, just loud enough for her to hear. "They didn't release a statement, papers are too unreliable. He heard the soft whoosh of the door and glanced up to look for Grace. She was still sitting, so he returned to the paper. The soft sound of massive claws along the marble floor was comforting, and he didn't need to look up to recognize who it was.

Grace made a happy sort of sound and got up from her seat to approach the massive blue Pokémon. The calm, psychic voice filled the air. "It was Dialga and Palkia." The Pokémon said, a slight contempt in her voice. Adrian glanced up at Grace, who was rubbing the Pokémon's head.

"_Again_?" He asked, frowning. Dialga and Palkia had fought before, surely, but they'd never stricken the same town twice. In fact, the first time Alamos had been attacked it was a fluke, a mere mistake. The second time, he wasn't sure if either of them could profess innocence. Twice, after all, was not a mistake.

"What are the precautions being taken about them? The punishments?" He asked as he set his newspaper aside and leaned forward on his desk.

"Precautions? None. Punishment? There is to be a trial later today. Arceus is not pleased. The only reason the trial was postponed for so long was that Darkrai refused to leave Cresselia, and Arceus was rather hoping that Cresselia would be recovered by now. She is not."

Adrian leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face. "Cresselia and Darkrai were involved? What brought Cresselia so far from home?" He glanced at Suicune, who was sitting on the marble floor next to Grace, who was stroking the Legendary's chin in an almost affectionate way.

"Darkrai, of course. Who did you expect?" Suicune seemed unhappy, a further stretch from normal. "The meeting is today, Darkrai is going to attend whether Raikou has to drag him physically or not. Cresselia is being left in the hands of those humans that Darkrai likes. They're currently staying in a small town called Durnsmark. It's a few miles from Alamos. The restoration attempts are falling far behind, according to Darkrai. Arceus is most displeased."

Adrian frowned and focused on Grace, who mirrored his own expression. So _that_ was what happened, or some of what happened. Palkia and Dialga had attacked each other again, Alamos remained an unlucky victim. For one of the most up-and-coming young men in the nation, everyone did seem to like keeping him misinformed. "And Cresselia got in the middle of this? I presume Darkrai tried to stop them again, being that unofficial guardian-whatever he calls himself of Alamos. Cresselia tried to help?" Suicune simply nodded.

"Well _that_ changed a lot. Which one attacked her? Palkia or Dialga?"

"Palkia." Suicune replied solemnly, dipping her head slightly. "Arceus was there. She was trying, like Darkrai and Cresselia, to break them up again. She bore witness to the attack, firsthand. She saw it herself, which is testimony enough against Palkia. There's much turmoil in the council, you see. There are whisperings, horrible rumors circulating. We're fearing the worst."

"And by worst, I'm assuming…?" Adrian trailed off. Grace's eyes were wide, like she'd already made the connection in her mind. Her small hand, which was tangled in Suicune's fur, clenched around the canine's shoulder.

"Worst, meaning war."


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys, sorry it took forever for an update! I seem to do that a lot, don't I? I write a bunch, stop, write more, stop, it's a vicious cycle. So thank you to everyone who has stuck by me!

And yes, Adrian and Grace _are_ OC's. I tend to despise them violently, but they're pretty important to the plot, and it didn't make sense to use already established characters. And don't worry, they won't fall madly and suddenly in love with Tonio or Alice or anything like that. Though I must warn you, their key in the plot _is_ a little outlandish, so bear with me. It's awesome. So thanks to everyone who reviewed! Thus, chapter three.

**Momentum**

**Chapter Three:**

Alice frowned as Darkrai recollected the news of Palkia. "That's awful!" She protested when he finished telling her about the trial. Her brow furrowed and her lips curled down in disgust. "I don't know what's worse, the death sentence, or that he fled it."

"He deserves whatever he gets. Arceus is furious over this whole ordeal, and I hope he gets the worst." Darkrai said stiffly, honestly. "Alamos has suffered _twice_, there were deaths this time. Humans died, and while we usually don't care much about them…" He trailed off, shrugging stoically. "Arceus is soft to the needs of the humans, and the attack on Cresselia pushed her over the edge."

"And the war…" Alice shifted uncomfortably in the overstuffed chair of the Pokémon Center, brushing her blond hair behind her ears. "This is all very unfortunate. We were just starting to get ahead with cleaning up Alamos, too." There was a buzz from her pocket that interrupted her, and she reached to grab it. "It's Tonio," She said, giving Darkrai a look as she answered the phone.

He drifted, acknowledging her need for her privacy. She and Tonio were making plans for a wedding, spurred by the tragic events in Alamos. There was something, Darkrai had observed, that made humans act when they were faced with horrible situations. In the case of the second attack on Alamos, Tonio had seemed to realize their mortality, and proposed. Alice had been elated, so much so that they simply could _not_ put the wedding off. They scheduled it for as soon as they possibly could. The idea of war amongst the Legendaries only seemed to hasten Alice's need to tie the knot. This was the third time that Tonio had called since Alice had decided to visit, as if it was some testimony to how much he cared for her.

In a way, Darkrai was almost jealous. Alice was alright, she had come close to a brush with death – but Cresselia had _saved_ her. Even so, Tonio had managed to see the gravity of the situation. And what had he, Darkrai, done? Cresselia had actually come very close to dying, and all he could do was float around her room and deliver to her macabre news about a world at war.

"Sorry about that," Alice said sheepishly as she sat back down in her previous seat. "Tonio found a boutique to deliver flowers, you know how it is. Or, well, I guess you don't. Pokémon don't really get married, huh?"

"They don't." He said simply, his deep voice emotionless. Eager to change the subject, he continued unfomcortably. "What is next on the agenda for Alamos?"

"We're hoping to start rebuilding, actually. Most of the debris is cleared up, faster than we expected it to be. We've got a lot of people helping us, donating their time, their resources. It's amazing, there's a man out of Goldenrod City who heard about Alamos and contributed a _lot_ of money toward its restoration. He's supposed to arrive sometime this week to head up the project." She beamed a little, a spark in her eyes. Alice was vehement about the justice of the small island town, and the topic of rebuilding it made her hopeful. Darkrai shifted and leaned against a seat, letting the recent fatigue sweep over him.

The Center was empty for the most part. Nurse Joy had gone off to run errands, and aside from the aides that occasionally crossed the wide room, it was vacant. Darkrai didn't need to keep up as thick a façade when it was only Alice, so he let his routine drop.

"You're worried about Cresselia, aren't you?" She said predictably, as if she could read his mind. "She'll be alright. She's already beginning to regain a lot of memory, right?" Alice leaned across the gap between their seats and pressed her hand against his claw. "Are the terrors getting better?"

"No. They aren't. She can't make them stop, and she doesn't remember them when she wakes up."

"They'll get better," Alice said reassuringly as she stood up. "I've got to get going, Darkrai, but I promise you, they'll get better."

"When are Alice and Tonio getting married, Darkrai?" It was a little after eight, and the sun was beginning to set. The light from the window in Cresselia's room sent a slant of yellow across her bed, which pierced the otherwise dark room. The only other source was the monitors that were still hooked to her wings.

"Soon, a few weeks." He said absently, gazing speculatively at her. There hadn't been much progress in a week, and he was dreading what the specialist in Durnsmark was telling him. _As soon as the improvements slow, it's likely they'll get much better from there._ Darkrai flexed his claws until he could feel their sharpness on his palms.

"I bet that'll be nice. Do you think I'll be able to go?" Cresselia was gazing out the window, toward the city scene. It was a quaint view, one that had been picked for her specifically because she was expected to be there for a while.

"If that is what you want."

She smiled a little, blinking widely at him. She'd changed so _much_, Darkrai realized. The witty, snarky Cresselia he had come to know had vanished somewhere in the rubble of Alamos. Gone was the creative conversations, the rivalry, the insults. It had been replaced with her in a bed, thin and weak and hooked to machines, trying to keep herself competent. She was too tired to fight with him, if she even remembered that they used to fight before. And what about himself? He was too worried about her to be angry with her, too terrified that he might come close to losing her again that the very idea of throwing a sarcastic comment her way was revolting. He sighed heavily, wishing that he'd just left Alamos alone and kept himself and Cresselia home.

"I bet it's nice, to be in love." She said wistfully, staring once again out the window. He glanced up at her, examined her pale face, the circles under her eyes. She settled back onto her bed and allowed her thin neck to drape over her pillow, her body looking more brittle than it had in days. "So nice."

"I'm sure it is." He said simply, as he watched her drift off into sleep.


End file.
